Morning Coffee
by a v a r i e l
Summary: Yuffie stares longingly at a former lover. [ slight R/Y ]


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Morning Coffee

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a v a r i e l 

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Her eyes of violet stared listlessly at the fairy-light brown liquid in the porcelain mug made of pure ivory. So far, coffee had been her escape route from the pain she endured for the past week; she was still too young to drink any alcoholic beverages so coffee was the next best thing. She was missing out on what could have been the experience of a lifetime - to leave every thing behind and start from bitter scratch, but coffee - oh, coffee was sweet and delicious, caressing her taste buds with a tingling sensation. Perhaps it had something to do with its hazelnut flavor and the dashes of cinnamon. Whatever it was, she loved it. It didn't make her mind hazy like alcohol would have, but at least it helped her forget some things for a moment.

The silver bell gave a small ring as someone entered the coffeehouse in the light of the new morn. She furrowed her brows. If memory served her right, she was usually the only person awake and sane (or insane, depending on how you looked at it) to wake up at the break of dawn just to get her usual cup. No one she knew was right in his or her minds to wake up so early when the possibility of sleeping in was still at bay. She gave a wistful sigh; she was slightly disappointed. Her being the only in the house made her feel more at ease so she could think without being bothered. With someone else in a few feet's radius from her location unnerved her somewhat.

She averted her gaze from her coffee to the door, only to gasp at the sight of a familiar redhead who looked very much restless. His suit was messy and wrinkled – more so than usual - and the nightstick he normally carried was probably forgotten somewhere, seeing as how it wasn't attached to his side. His navy jacket was slung casually over his shoulder as he leaned on the front counter and ordered something only the cashier could hear. As he turned around to grab a seat, she turned her head back to her coffee, a faint blush staining her cheeks.

He hadn't seen her, had he?

Cautiously, she peeked out at his lean muscular figure from the corner of her eyes, observing how he sat down on the polished wooden chair with a languid motion, graceful and alluring. He had completely ignored her, which was a good sign, but she felt hurt somewhat. She wanted to go unnoticed, yet wanted to grab his attention all at once. She was so confused. Seeing him again sparked whatever feelings she had shoved away back to the surface. It was almost frustrating that she wanted to yank her brown strands out.

She sighed and sipped at her coffee, flinching suddenly when she had forgotten how hot it was. Tears gathered up in the corners of her eyes, and she fanned at her tongue as discreetly as possible. It didn't matter all the same; no one was around to observe this amusing scenario.

Finally convincing herself that she had, indeed, burnt her taste buds she leaned her elbows on the table and grumbled. The woman from behind the counter suddenly came out from behind to hand the redhead his coffee (or whatever drink he had ordered), accompanied with a small sheet of paper.

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Probably her phone number, she mused.

It was a little heartbreaking. Then again, why should she care? They weren't "together" anymore anyway. Still, pain poked at her heart like miniature needles did a voodoo doll.

She watched him light a cigarette and watch the gray smoke wither way into nothingness. He took a few more puffs before tapping at the ashtray, watching the fallen embers fall gracefully into the silver holder. He lay the stick down and leaned back against his chair, taking a sip of his coffee. Now that she thought about it, he never struck her as a 'coffee person.' She had always seen him drinking booze or groping women that the idea of conservatism and this man being attuned was rather impossible.

Then again, he always surprised her.

Oh, how she wished he would steal a glance in her direction. Deep inside, she knew she wanted to submerge herself into beautiful aquamarine, soul-inspiring depths. She wanted him to steal her breath away, to make her shiver in anticipation and the wonderful sensation of falling in love all over again.

She blinked as he stood from his table, taking another sip of his coffee and pulling on his jacket; it was raining. He bid a farewell to his waitress, paying no heed to the young ninja girl sitting at the chair next to the window. He calmly brushed a hand through his unruly hair before stepping out into the preying gloomy skies.

A tear escaped her eye and she swiped it away, taking a sip at the now bitter-tasting coffee. She spat it out and coughed, more tears threatening to pour out of her eyes. She glanced pensively at the door he exited and released a shaky breath, one that implied she was going to soon burst into a pool of her own tears.

She didn't _care_ if they never would end up together. There was just one thing that stabbed her heart like shattered glass piercing virgin skin, and she thought that the whole world was closing in on her, her breaths growing shorter and far in between.

He never looked at her.

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Author's Notes: This was every bit inspired by a French poem I went over in my French class. I interpreted it FF-style, and this is what I came out with. Lately, I've been getting muse-shocked with the idea of Reno/Yuffie... not that I have any qualms about it. Just... everything I've written so far was just sad. And that's just sad. But anyway, I need another spirit boost of so I'll be outside mingling with the rain while you all grimace at this poorly written vignette. And when you're finished, you can watch the girl clad in sweats, standing outside the freezing rain at three in the morning. For me... it's serene. Besides, today's yet another mournful anniversary.

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dedicated to the forlorn 

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or the dead of loves 


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